


Birthday

by StealingPennies



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Character Death, Gen, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealingPennies/pseuds/StealingPennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Déagol! Déagol!” called Sméagol trying not panic. Only the birds replied with a rush of wings as they flew off at the sound of his voice. “Déagol, where are you?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He peered over the side of the boat reaching into the water as if it could be parted like straw. He was not a strong swimmer and jumping in was out of the question. Whatever had taken Déagol was still out there.</i>
</p>
<p>The ring is found once more.... A small infill scene for the Trope Bingo Square Immortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> We don't start off evil...   
> I've tried not to tread all over canon but haven't replicated conversations exactly as they appear in the books/films. Apologies to purists.

**Birthday**

The sun was warm on Sméagol’s face. Cherry blossom hung heavy on the trees and the scent of meadowsweet and wild violettas drifted across the water. In the centre of the slow-moving river Sméagol tapped his feet against the rough wooden planks that formed the boat’s floor and sang a few bars of song. He had no voice but it didn’t matter as there were only the birds and his kinsman, Déagol, to hear. Déagol laughed and said Sméagol was tuneless enough to scare the fish but he smiled as he said it. Sméagol smiled back. The fish had no ears to hear and no voices to complain.

Today was Smeagol’s birthday and the world, or at least this small corner of it, was doing its best to make the day perfect.

There had been bread and fresh honey cakes laid out for breakfast when Sméagol had crept down at dawn. He grabbed two cakes and stuffed a third in his mouth as he left the burrow. He was going fishing with Déagol with the stated intent of bringing back eels for supper. They would be served stuffed and roasted and seasoned with grandmother’s closely-hoarded spices on her largest platter. The special ceremonial one that rested on the mantelpiece above the fire and was only used three or four times a year when the family gathered together. It had never been brought down for Sméagol before. After the main feast was over, there would be presents and more cakes and sweetmeats in different flavours and colours, some large for sharing and some small enough to be consumed in a single bite. There would be cheers and toasts and general celebrating for everyone loved a party. And this was a very special party. Sméagol was coming of age. Soon, joked the old aunties, it would be time to take a wife. Sméagol blushed and smiled. He liked the thought of a wife but as yet no thoughts of any particular maiden warmed the pit of his stomach when he touched himself secretly at night.

Déagol had kissed a tavern wench and boasted that he touched her bare breast with his hands and mouth. Sméagol was not sure if he believed this or not. Déagol was full of stories.

He was reciting a long tale now as he and Sméagol cast their lines over the water. Sméagol only half listened. There was a gaffer and a rabbit and some sort of altercation with a washing line. He nodded and grunted at intervals and thought about what gifts he might receive. The tug took them both by surprise shaking the boat with sudden brutal force. A fish! Déagol was catapulted into the water and Sméagol only saved himself by tensing his legs and grabbing the edge of the small craft as it rocked and swayed.

The first shock over he laughed. The day was fine. Déagol would soon dry out and now Sméagol would have a funny tale to tell of the fish that fought back. Assuming Déagol let him. Déagol preferred to be the hero in their adventures. But not this time. 

The water flowed around the boat undisturbed once more. Laughter trickled away when his companion did not resurface.

“Déagol! Déagol!” called Sméagol trying not panic. Only the birds replied with a rush of wings as they flew off at the sound of his voice. “Déagol, where are you?”

He peered over the side of the boat reaching into the water as if it could be parted like straw. He was not a strong swimmer and jumping in was out of the question. Whatever had taken Déagol was still out there.

One minute passed. Two. 

Heart hammering, head spinning, Sméagol slumped down in the boat. A buzzing noise filled his ears. He concentrated on breathing deeply, in and out, and eventually the feeling of sickness passed and he was able to hear again properly.

There was a noise. Someone was shouting.

“Sméagol!”

Déagol stood on the bank, bedraggled and muddy from where he had pulled himself up from the river, but very much alive.

“Déagol!” Sméagol called again but this time the call was joyful.

He rowed the boat in as quickly as possible and joined his companion on dry land. Déagol looked no worse from his soaking. In fact, his eyes were shining and a triumphant smile played over his features. 

“What?” asked Sméagol. “Why do you smile like that? You scared me with your antics.”

“Treasure!” replied Déagol ignoring the complaint and unfurling his fingers to reveal a golden ring. “The fish led me to treasure. Is it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”

Oh. This would not be Sméagol’s tale after all. 

“Yes,” he agreed. He stared greedily at the ring. It was indeed beautiful. Then on impulse he held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Déagol looked up, startled. “No. I found it, it’s mine.”

Sméagol persisted. “It’s my birthday. You should give it to me as a gift.”

A snort answered this. “I’ve already bought you a gift. A more expensive one than I could afford. This belongs to me. What would you do with such a precious object? I shall show it to the lasses at the inn and offer them the chance to hold it in return for favours.”

Later Sméagol would try and justify what happened next. It wasn’t his fault. It was Déagol’s for wanting to sully his treasure in such petty and lustful ways. Sméagol would never do that. It was not respectful. He said as much and Déagol laughed. “The ring does not care who wears it.”

It was the laughter that did it. Always he laughed. In sudden fury, Sméagol wrapped his hands around Déagol’s throat intent only on silencing the sound. Déagol fought back but he was already at a disadvantage being taken by surprise and weak from lack of air. It was over quickly. Déagol finally lay silent and still, his treasure still clutched in one lax hand. Sméagol took the ring. It slid easily on his finger as if it belonged.

Sméagol leaned back against a tree. The bark was slightly damp from when Déagol had sat there earlier but Sméagol did not move. The day was warm and he would soon dry though the sun, previously so bright, now seemed less bright. Or maybe it was because the metal encasing his finger seemed to burn with its own fire. 

A tear slid down his face. Déagol was dead. How could that be? Now they would never meet and fish again or go sliding down the snow covered hills in winter. Perhaps it was a dream? He shut his eyes and opened them. The scene did not change. On his finger was treasure and the body of his kinsman was already starting to swell.

Everything would change now. This was the first day of the rest of his life.

Déagol should have given him the treasure. Sméagol should not have been forced to take it. It was his birthday. He was owed a gift and this was the present he wanted. Deagol’s present. He repeated the sentences over and over turning them this way and that and finding justification in his actions. No one could blame Sméagol. If anything Déagol had done this to himself.

Much later the elders came with torches and ropes to look for the missing pair. A cry went up when they found Déagol’s body. Sméagol waited to be noticed. But they never saw him at all.


End file.
